Wild, Wild Yukon
by Red Warrior
Summary: Five months have gone by without any news from William Murdoch. Thomas Brackenreid, George Crabtree and Julia Ogden decide to travel to Yukon to find the detective by themselves and, they hope, bring him back to Toronto. WM/JO - Rating may go up.
1. Welcome to Yukon

**Disclaimer: Set right after S5 Ep1.  
**

**Wild, Wild Yukon**

**Chapter One: Welcome to Yukon**

"What time is it already? I feel like we left the station hours ago but the sun doesn't seem to go down."

"Sir, it won't settle down, you see we are in June and I've read that here in Yukon there's close to six months of daylight and six months of night. I know it sounds strange, but unfortunately I wasn't able to find more information, as you see, this territory was created only one year ago and not many people have chosen to-"

"Bloody hell, Crabtree, I asked for the time, not a goddamn conference!"

"Ah, of course sir, it's half past eleven…"

If they hadn't been piled up in a tiny carriage for the past three hours, with that incredible heat and the stench emanating from the sweat-soaked seats, Julia Ogden might have found the exchange comical. But being squeezed in-between two men and a pile of suitcases, with no chance to even stretch her legs, had done a number on her patience. Her fan was only blowing hot air on her face which did nothing to cool her down, Thomas Brackenreid was twitching restlessly on his seat, and although he blamed the horses, she was quite certain that George Crabtree's intestines hadn't been very receptive to that last meal on the train.

Sighing, she decided to think about the reason why they had decided to travel to Yukon.

Five months had gone by without any news from Detective William Murdoch. The constabulary had received a single letter, notifying them of his arrival at Dawson City, last winter. But after that, nothing, not even the smallest telegraph. And of course, there was no telephone in Dawson allowing long distance calls from Toronto.

This lack of news had Brackenreid very concerned – he would never admit it, but Julia could read right through him. He was afraid that something had happened to his prized detective, or worse, maybe Murdoch didn't want to come back at all! So the Inspector had hurried and bought three tickets to the border of Klondike, bringing along the two people he knew could talk Murdoch into coming back to Toronto: George Crabtree and Julia Ogden.

So here they were, in a carriage en route to Dawson, after several days spent sharing a train with gold washers-to-be in high boots, barbers, grocers and a variety of other professions. Yukon the Young was bare, wild, and looked like a promise of freedom to everyone who knew how to dream. It only seemed natural that so many people were willing to try their luck.

_I wonder if that's what William came here to find… Freedom…_

Her heart felt suddenly very heavy; after all, what right did they have, coming here to try and drag him back to Toronto? What if he was much happier here, in the wilderness? With his latest case and, there was no hiding it, her wedding, maybe he didn't want to return to his old life as a detective. He was hurt, she knew it, but he never made his intentions clear to her. He didn't even respond to the last note she left him before her wedding, although she knew that George had given him the cream-colored envelope. He never voiced his feelings, and she wasn't going to wait forever for him to make a move.

_Then why do I wish things were different? _

"Ha, sir, ma'am, I think that's a town up ahead!" George announced, his head out the window.

"About darn time, too," Brackenreid grunted.

Ten minutes later, they gratefully stepped out of the carriage and into Dawson's main street. The "town" consisted of no more than twenty buildings arranged to form three or four large streets with large balls of hay flying to and fro, scattering dust everywhere. The sidewalks were mostly empty save for a few men, prospectors by the looks of them, who were discussing. Julia noticed that some of them were staring at her, but she chose not to care.

Brackenreid heaved the last suitcase out of the carriage with a grunt. "Well, here we are. First things first, let's find hotel rooms, I'm sleeping on my feet."

"Here sir, _The Midnight Sun_, looks promising," George pointed out, grabbing his suitcase and holding out his hand toward Julia. "Doctor, please allow me."

"Oh no George, thank you, but I'm fine," she told him with a smile, picking up her own suitcase. "The hotel is not that far."

The little group crossed the street and entered the establishment. Inside, it was somewhat stuffy, but at least they were shielded from the sun. George and Crabtree pulled off their hats to dab at their foreheads as Julia took a look around. The first floor was a saloon, and reminded her of descriptions she had only seen in novels dealing with the Wild West and tales of Buffalo Bill. There was a large countertop, with old rusty shelves and equally old bottles of liquor sitting on them. There was no glass mirror, though, for the cow-boys to watch their backs when they were sipping at their scotch. The idea made her chuckle.

There were a few tables in the room, but only one of them was occupied by a sleeping man.

Brackenreid walked over to the bartender, a tall and muscular redhead, who was cleaning glasses behind the counter. "Greetings, sir, do you happen to have any vacancy?"

"As a matter of fact I do, it's been pretty calm these last few days, have your pick," the man answered, motioning to a wooden rack where keys were suspended on nails.

"Well, we'll take rooms 9, 10 and 11, thank you." As the bartender retrieved the keys and a dusty worn-out book from a shelf, Brackenreid decided to try his luck. "Incredible heat, eh?"

"Yes sir, it's quite unusual here, but the old ones say it won't last."

"Say, did you rent a room to a fellow named William Murdoch these last few weeks?"

"I just arrived last week, sir, I don't know everyone yet, but I'm going to check." He put the book on the counter and opened it, shuffling through the pages. "Murdoch, Murdoch… ah, yes, here. Room 24. I remember him know, a very nice fellow, brought back a deer or two when we were short on meat. Never picks up fights but he sure can throw a good punch."

George and Julia exchanged a weird look; William, hunting deer and fighting in a bar?

"Lovely, and would you happen to know where he is?" the Inspector asked, leaning his arm on the counter.

The gesture revealed part of his police badge, and the tall bartender frowned. "He's not in any kind of trouble, is he? He's a decent man, he helps out a lot, so if you're-"

"We just want to speak to him, we know him well," Julia said calmly.

The redhead swept a suspicious glance across their three faces, but seemed to believe them. "He's not here, not right now I mean. I think he went for a ride down the river, I don't know when he'll be back."

They thanked him, gave him their names to write down in his book and began to ascend the stairs to their rooms, their luggage in their arms. They were on the second floor, with room 10 on the right, 9 and 11 on the left. Julia checked her key, where a big 9 was engraved, and walked to the right door. "Well, sirs, I assume you are going to rest after such a stressful journey," she told them, and Crabtree could only nod eagerly. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"You don't want to eat something downstairs? Our last meal on the train was hours ago," Brackenreid inquired, and she had a feeling that _he _was not going to sleep without a nice, big plate of whatever they could cook here.

"I'm not very hungry, thank you Inspector."

"Well, good "night" then doctor, if you need anything, let me or Crabtree know."

She gave them a smile and nodded before entering her room.

It was a nicely furnished room, considering they were in the middle of nowhere. The red carpet and wallpaper were a little old and worn-out, but overall everything was well kept and clean. The double bed in the corner looked very comfortable, and while the dressing table next to the window was quite small, it was more than Julia had hoped.

The pathologist deposited her suitcase next to the bed and walked to the window to open the curtains and let some sunlight in; her room was overlooking the street, and she noticed that they were a few more men out there than when she arrived with Brackenreid and Crabtree. Some were walking, and others were riding horses at a slow, even pace, as if they had all the time in the world.

One particular rider caught her attention; the man was wearing high, black boots and a large dark hat to shield his eyes from the sun. The color of his trousers was undefined, covered as they were by the dust his mount was sweeping up with its hooves. The man had his sleeves rolled up, and Julia could tell from his tanned forearms that he had spent a considerable amount of time basking in direct sunlight.

The horse itself was a real beauty; not a speck of any color other than jet black was adorning its coat, and it seemed to stroll effortlessly along the street with its long and muscular legs. Julia was no expert, but the fine lines on the animal's back and its solid croup certainly were an untold promise of fantastic gallops through the plains of Yukon. The rider certainly was a lucky man.

The unknown man stopped his horse in front of the saloon and got down from his saddle. He turned around, exposing the back of his long and tattered jacket to Julia, to pull off his hat and wave it at someone on the other side of the street, a young man wearing a long beige overcoat.

Julia was about to detach herself from the window to tend to her suitcase, when the rider turned around once more, without putting his hat back on, and her heart skipped a beat.

The owner of the black horse was none other than William Murdoch.

* * *

Julia didn't bother with a shower as she first intended to; she just slipped on a fresh dress and arranged her hair quickly before leaving her room. Her heart was still beating fast, and she had no idea why, actually. _We came here to see him, I knew it, so why does it feel so strange? _

She walked down the stairs and unconsciously took a last glance in a mirror on the wall to check her appearance. She pulled back a few golden strands, and took a big breath. _What on Earth am I so nervous about? This is William, for heaven's sake! _

The doctor gathered her courage and took a peek in the saloon. The sleeping man was still sprawled out on his table, which had Julia wondering if he was even alive at all, and two men were laughing at the bar. A quick search was enough to spot William; he was seated in the far corner with the young man in the beige overcoat, and the two of them were discussing and pointing at pages in a book. He didn't have his hat on, and from where she stood she could see the tousled brown hair and the stubble adorning his jaw; a very unfamiliar sight, to say the least.

Julia suddenly felt very self-conscious, hesitant at the prospect of walking over to him. What would she say? Would he be happy to see her again? Or would he rather she left him alone, forever? She couldn't decide; she had travelled for days across the whole country, and yet she was frozen in the doorway, unable to make a choice. This new William… he intimidated her.

The young woman shook her head and made her way to the counter. She could drink something to fend off the overwhelming heat and thus buy some time to decide on a course of action.

"Could I have a glass of water, please?" she asked, and smiled when the bartender nodded.

"Well, well, well, Logan, lookee here what I found." Julia turned her head to the right; one of the two men she had seen before was giving her a crooked smile. His friend, whose name apparently was Logan, was giving her a strange look. "Hello there, young lady."

"Hello, sir," she replied politely, but her tone made it clear that she had no desire to strike up a conversation. She focused on the bartender who was pouring her a glass of water.

But the unknown man would have none of it. "Never seen you 'round here, you new?"

"Yes, I arrived today actually." She didn't know where this was going, but she didn't like the glint in his eyes and she prayed it was only due to alcohol. Or maybe not.

"D'you hear that, Logan? Just arrived today, ah! Say, pretty face, I've got a nice big room, third floor, you wanna share the cost of the rent? Got a big bed, I'll take care of ya."

"Shut up, Davis, you're drunk," the bartender cut in, giving Julia her glass and an apologetic look. "Stop making a fool out of yourself."

"M'not drunk, and you, shut your goddamn trap." The man she now knew as Davis smiled at her again and got closer; so close actually that she could smell the whiskey on his breath. "C'mon pretty flower, I ain't that bad, I don't bite… Well unless you wanna."

"I have to say that's very tempting, sir, but I have to decline." Her voice was still polite, but firm. "Now please, leave me alone."

She tried to ignore him and sip at her glass, but he grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him. "Now listen here, you-"

"I believe the lady said no."

That deep voice. It sent shivers down Julia's spine, and for a moment, she forgot all about the stinking man clinging at her arm. Tentatively, she turned her head; and here he was, standing tall and steady. His dark eyes were focused on Davis, unwavering, and if looks could kill the other man would already be six feet underground. She wondered if he had seen her; after all, she was a bit hidden behind the drunken man's large back.

Davis gave a rough laugh and turned around to face her long-time friend. "Well, what a surprise, our good ol' Willy! Always sweepin' in to save girls, eh?"

"Step away from her, your presence clearly upsets her," Murdoch said calmly, but his eyes were hard.

"Or what? Whatcha gonna do to me, uh?"

"We could make you leave this saloon like you've never done before, with your head first." The voice belonged to the young man who was previously chatting with William; Julia hadn't even seen he was standing next to the detective.

Davis barked out another laugh, and was soon joined by his friend Logan. "You two half-wits don't even stand a chance, leave us grown-ups deal with our business, would yah, or we're gonna have to bash you heads in!"

The tension in the room was excruciating, and Julia began to feel very nervous about the outcome of a potential fight. And so did the bartender, if the way he was shuffling his feet anxiously was any indication.

"For the last time, please leave this establishment," William said politely.

"Make me, pansy."

The blow landed on Davis' jaw before anyone else registered that William's fist had sprung up. The large man flew backward and hit the counter hard, but he soon recovered and charged at the two younger men with a feral growl. William's friend tripped him, sending him toppling to the dusty floor; but soon they were assaulted by Logan, who was at least as furious as Davis, but also very sober. The man grabbed William by the lapels of his jacket and threw him away and into some chairs that went flying on impact.

William grunted and hurried to his feet, but when he got up Logan caught him again, by the throat that time, and began to crush his windpipe. The detective was very red in the face by the time his partner picked up a chair and smashed it on Logan's head, effectively freeing him. Out of breath, they still managed to kick and drag their two assaulters out of the saloon and throw them in the street.

That's when Julia realized she had been rooted to the spot all along, her hand still holding on her glass of water for dear life. It all happened so fast… She was shaking a little, from shock she assumed, but otherwise she had no time to feel anything else.

She only regained some of her senses when William and his friend came back into the saloon.

"Are you alright, Mr. Murdoch?" the bartender asked worriedly. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Oscar, I'm fine," he replied with a reassuring smile, but from the way he was rubbing his throat and his raspy voice, Julia knew that he was in pain. "Could you get me some water?"

"Right away, sir!"

William thanked him and, at long last, he turned to face her. "Well, milady, you can rest assured that-"

He stopped short as their gazes finally locked, and she then knew that he hadn't recognized her earlier. She fought against her fear and worries and gave him a smile. "Hello, William."

He was silent for a few seconds, as if in a trance, but he pulled himself out of it. "Julia…"

"You two know each other?" William's friend asked, his puzzled blue eyes travelling from one face to another. When they nodded wordlessly, he turned to Julia and extended his hand with a warm smile. "My name's Jack London. Welcome to Yukon."


	2. Reunited

**Chapter Two: Reunited**

The three of them were sitting around a table in the corner. They all had a glass in hand; water for Julia and the young man named Jack, and surprisingly, scotch for William. She had never seen him drink – well, not like this anyway. She wondered if that was the only thing that living in the Yukon for a few months had changed.

The former colleagues couldn't even make eye contact, let alone talk to each other. _You'd believe I would have spared some time to think about our first conversation… And yet here we are… _It saddened Julia that they were almost like strangers, but she couldn't think of anything to tell him, now that he was right in front of her.

After a few minutes spent in utter and uncomfortable silence, Jack took it upon himself to strike up a conversation. "So, Toronto, eh? That's a long road… How was your journey?"

"Oh, it was just fine," Julia replied, twirling her glass between her fingers. "A bit crowded, but I guess that was to expect, with this whole gold rush ordeal."

"Well, they're going to be disappointed, this man here already washed the river clean of any gold particle!" Jack laughed and patted Murdoch on the shoulder. The detective didn't look away from his glass but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Aren't I right, William?"

"I think you may be exaggerating a bit, Mr. London," he muttered, sipping at his drink. "Besides, I don't have it anymore, do you remember?"

"Right." Jack's blue eyes settled on Julia once more, and they were full of joyful mirth. "He bailed a woman out of jail, and then, he bought a sickly horse."

At this William's head snapped up and he gave his companion a hard stare. "She wasn't sick, she was dehydrated, I've told you many times."

Jack shook his head, grinning. "Fine, have it your way, I won't _speak ill_ of your precious horse again."

"Jack…" William's voice was carrying a warning.

"Alright, alright, Jesus there's no joking with you." The younger man gulped down his glass of water before speaking up again. "So what brings a fine young lady such as you here in the Yukon? All the way from Toronto, no less."

Unconsciously, Julia's eyes went to William, and she was so startled to meet his chocolate gaze that she looked away. Had he seen her? How stupid, of course he had, she was staring into his eyes. But why had he been looking at her? Was it Jack's question that had interested him? She could only hope… "I am here for… personal matters," she only replied. "There is someone that I need to see."

Uncomfortable silence, once more; William and Julia were back to staring at their drinks. Jack's eyes, however, were switching from one awkward face to another, and after a while he smirked. "Oh, I see. Well, it's been a long day, and I long for a nap." He stood up and stretched, and William knew it was just for show. "Dear friends, I'm off to bed, and wish you a good night. William, milady," he said with a nod before he left in direction of the stairs.

The two of them were then left alone in the middle of the very silent saloon. Neither knew what to say, or if they did, they didn't dare. They were back to square one, back when they first met, except that at the time William had been the one engaged to another person, and now it was Julia who was married to Darcy.

"I'm sorry."

Julia was startled to hear the sound of his voice, so low and so deep. "What for?"

"Your wedding. I'm sorry I couldn't attend." _Well, not really "couldn't"… _

She wanted to tell him he had been missed, she wanted to bring up the note she had left on his typewriter shortly before the ceremony, but she knew it was too soon. So she settled for: "Oh… don't worry about it, I know you had other matters to see to." Tentatively, she gave him a smile. And to her surprise he returned it, although it only lasted a few seconds. But it gave her the courage to keep talking. "So, what is life like in the Yukon? How have you been?"

"Well, it is not as peaceful as I pictured it to be," he answered, and his eyes were trained on his tumbler. "And I have trouble adjusting to permanent sunlight, so I'm a bit short on sleep, but otherwise I'm fine." William pulled out his pocket watch and gave a sigh. "See, it's already 2 in the morning, I don't check the time often enough…"

"You don't feel the need to rest?"

"Well, the absence of complete darkness isn't helping. Besides, I've not done much today, just a few errands and a ride down the river. I have no substantial reason to be tired." He tucked the pocket watch back in his jacket and went back to being silent once again.

Julia was afraid they were going to lose the frail bond that had begun to form with this conversation, and hurried to keep it going. "Your friend, Mr. London, he looks like a fine young man. Is he a gold washer too?"

"No, Jack is more of a freelance writer, as he put it himself. From what he told me, he came here to find inspiration for tales about hunts for gold and wilderness. We did prospect together at some point, though, a rather unsuccessful initiative if I recall correctly. The Klondike is running low on gold nowadays, it won't be long until everyone ends up fleeing Dawson City."

His voice had lost the determination, the fire, the cutting edge she was used to. He was just stating facts, as if it didn't concern him or even bored him. For a second, Julia was afraid he had taken to drinking heavily until his mind was dull, but the way he was sipping laboriously at his drink comforted her. She wasn't quite prepared to see such changes in him, it was unsettling. She needed something, anything that reminded her of the old William. "So, you bought a horse?" she blurted out before she could think.

One of his eyebrows rose quizzically, but he nodded. "Yes I did. It's a much easier and faster solution than just walking around."

"I never knew you could ride."

"I try." He stared at the splintered table for a little while, before he added in a lower tone, "Would you care to see her?"

Julia smiled, glad that she had found something that was of interest to him. "I would love to."

* * *

William and Julia exited the building by the back door, and the sight that welcomed them was simply mesmerizing.

The sun was low, even by local standards, and was playing games of light and shadows across the peaceful Yukon River. In the background, a small forest of fir trees, and a tall mountain with a nice coat of white snow at its top. It had been years since the last time Julia had seen snow, photographs aside.

The two of them walked a little way down to the river, and it wasn't long before they caught sight of the black mare grazing right next to the clear waters. William whistled, and the horse's ears pricked up; Julia thought they would have to walk the rest of the way, but the graceful animal broke into an elegant trot in their direction, only stopping at arm's length.

Murdoch smiled and stroked the soft black muzzle. "Good girl," he praised softly, earning a snort from his steed. This made him chuckle, and Julia felt her heart melt a little. This smiling, kind man was the William she had last seen in Toronto; the soft-hearted detective who fiddled with his hat whenever he was uncomfortable, the friend who had never let her down, even though she had hurt him.

The loving companion whose warm smile always had her knees turning to jelly.

_I have to stop thinking about him like this… What we had, whatever it was, ended a long time ago._ _And he didn't respond to my note before the wedding, so he probably didn't want to give it another try either…_

"Well, do you?"

Julia nearly jumped out of her skin; for one wild, atrocious second, she wondered if she had been thinking out loud, and cursed inwardly. "Begging your pardon?"

"I asked if you wanted to stroke her. She doesn't bite, I can assure you."

Relief instantly flooded her, and she gave him a smile that eased the curious look on his face a bit. "Of course, sorry, I was lost in thoughts." She held out her palm and let the mare sniff it; once it was alright, Julia ran her fingers down the noble horse's neck, tangling them softly in the dark mane. "What is her name?"

"Themis, I named her Themis," William answered, stroking the underside of his horse's head.

"The Goddess of Justice and Truth, why am I not surprised?" Julia chuckled when the mare nuzzled William's chest, probably looking for potentials treats in his pockets. "How did you come across her?"

"She belonged to an old man who was very unkind to her. He worked her too hard, I hardly ever saw her in the stables. One day, she couldn't stand on her legs, and he thought she was sick. Problem was, he had no intention to waste time healing her. He was about to shoot her, when I offered to buy her." William affectionately brushed back the strands of long black hair falling down over Themis' eyes. "That's how we found each other. Poor thing only needed to rest for a while, and after this, I don't think we've been apart for more than a couple of hours."

"This is quite the beautiful tale, William," Julia said, sincerely touched, but not really surprised. It wasn't unlike the detective to take those in need under his wing, even if he didn't have to. "Few other men would have done the same."

A smile tugged at the corner of his dried lips, and he shrugged. "What can I say? I fell in love with her the first time I saw her…" He immediately regretted this particular choice of words, but ground his teeth and prayed the doctor hadn't paid any mind to it.

Themis chose this precise moment to shake her head, and William's hand that had been resting on her cheek slipped down along her neck, colliding with Julia's own hand. They maintained the contact for one second – whether it was out of surprise or longing, they didn't know - before jerking their hands away from one another as if they had been burnt.

William fled her gaze, coughing. "Well, it's getting late, and I have to catch up on some sleep. I'm escorting you back to the saloon."

Julia nodded absentmindedly and followed him after a last caress on Themis' soft nostrils. He couldn't see her, so she took some time to study him from behind. His usually perfectly combed hair was longer than when she had last seen him, and tousled haphazardly. The sun and his large hat were probably to blame for this. The skin on the back of his neck was red, certainly from being strangled by that brute earlier, and there were a few splinters embedded in the shoulders of his brown jacket.

He looked wilder than the brilliant detective from Toronto she had befriended, more dangerous too. He was walking straight ahead but throwing glances left and right. On his guards. Was that the hilt of a knife peeking out of his boot? And that bump under his jacket, at his hip, a gun? _What has the world done to you, William?_

"You never told me why you came here."

The question caught her by surprise as they reached the entrance of the saloon and he held the door open for her. What should she tell him? She hadn't given it much thought, not enough anyway. _Best be honest about it. _"Well, William, to be truthful-"

"Bloody hell, Murdoch! Here you are at last, me old mucker!"


	3. Resentment

**Chapter Three: Resentment**

William's eyes almost reached the size of the sieve he had used down the river just a week prior. "Inspector, I never expected-" he stammered.

"Sir! How good to see you again!" George came up from behind Brackenreid and without a moment's hesitation threw his arms around William for a bear hug. Julia had to chuckle at the detective's flabbergasted expression as he held his arms up, at a total loss. "We were afraid you had died!"

"Come on, Crabtree, give the man some air." George let go of William but he kept a barely-restrained beaming smile on his youthful face. Brackenreid came forward and clapped Murdoch on the back. "You had us quite worried, old bugger, you folks in the Yukon never write back? It didn't have to be a long letter, just something to let us know you were alive, for God's sake!"

William was still trying to wrap his mind about the happenings of the past hour, but Brackenreid's words made him frown. "I never received any letter from Toronto… Or from anywhere else, for that matter."

"Are you kidding me? We sent you at least five letters over the past few months, Crabtree can account for this, he was the one I sent to deliver them. And Doctor Ogden wrote to you too, I didn't think you'd pass that up too."

William gave the inspector a hard stare but didn't ask him to elaborate upon this statement. "I am sorry, there must have been a mishap, I never received anything from any of you. But I should have sent you word of my faring here, which was quite good, you didn't have to worry over it."

"Well, we have some time right now for your tales of gold washing and pistol dueling, why don't you come inside and let us hear all about it? Come on, we're not going to discuss in the doorway!"

As Brackenreid and Crabtree headed back inside, William threw Julia a puzzled look. "Pistol dueling?" he just asked.

"He read a Buffalo Bill novel on the train," she explained with a smile.

"Oh. I see."

* * *

"Two hundreds bloody dollars? Well, I wouldn't mind paddling in a river in dirty breeches for even half that sum!" Brackenreid tossed his head back and polished off his tumbler in a single gulp. "And only in a month's work… What'll you do with all that money?"

"Unfortunately, sir, I don't have it anymore," William said, allowing George to pour him another glass of water. "A lot of things happened after that and I had to part with it."

"For real?" George gasped, almost missing William's glass.

"Yes, George. When I came back to Dawson after prospecting, I found out that the owner of the very same inn we're sitting in, Mrs. Elizabeth Bryant, had been charged with murder. I used the gold to bail her out of jail and then with some investigation, I proved that she was innocent."

Julia couldn't believe he was saying this so off-handedly; first he gives up on a month's worth of hard work for a woman he hardly knows, and then he conducts an investigation on his own to exculpate said woman. That man was unbelievable. "It is unthinkable that you managed all of this on your own, William," she said, truly astonished. "You never cease to amaze me."

He looked down for a moment and under the stubble, she could have sworn his cheeks had taken on a slight touch of red. "Oh, it was nothing really, and I wasn't completely alone, Jack helped me out… But if I had known I would be leading a murder investigation, I would have packed my fingerprint case and a good microscope, that would have spared me some trouble."

The four of them chuckled and fell into a silence that, for once, wasn't uncomfortable but soothing. They were all alone in the saloon now, even Oscar the bartender had retired to bed for a few hours. There was no sound other than the occasional creaking of wood as people walked upstairs, or a horse neighing down the street from time to time. Peace and quiet at its best.

"As glad as I am to see the three of you, I have to ask… Why are you here?" Murdoch asked softly after a few minutes of silence had ticked by.

"Sir, we were afraid something had happened to you, something bad," George said as if it was obvious. "And you weren't writing back, so we had to come and check up on you."

"I understand that, but… You could have sent anyone, why the three of you in particular?"

"Well, if we aren't good enough, please do tell, I'll have Higgins come over within the hour," Brackenreid snorted.

William fought the need to roll his eyes. "Again, sir, I am very pleased to see you… I am just confused as to why a busy police inspector, a renowned doctor and-" He hesitated for a second. "-and George would bother travelling all the way from Toronto just to make sure I am alive and well." He hoped he had chosen his words carefully this time; but if the disgruntled look on Crabtree's face was any indication, he hadn't done so well.

"Well, Murdoch, you are a valuable member of the constabulary," Brackenreid managed to drawl out. He wasn't good with praises and compliments. "Your welfare is a major concern and… we wanted to see if you had second thoughts about coming back to station four… and…"

"And we are to drag you back to Toronto by force if that's what it takes," George piped in, startling his three companions.

"Crabtree!"

"But that's what you said, sir! In the office, before we left!"

"Enough!" George opened his mouth to speak again but the look of warning he got from his superior made him swallow his next sentences, and he looked down at his empty glass. "You just don't know when to shut up, do you?"

William tried to process what just had been said, but there was something he just couldn't understand, and he voiced it. "You thought I would not come back?" he asked quizzically.

Brackenreid exchanged a glance with Julia and George, and sighed. "I admit you had us wondering… With everything that happened, we were afraid you had decided not to come back at all."

"I have to say the thought crossed my mind once or twice, but it was mere fantasy. I could… I mean, I would have never stayed here for the rest of my life. The gold rush is over, and even without that, my life is in Toronto." The detective's eyes were scanning his colleagues' faces, and he was saddened to find nothing but uncertainty there. "You weren't sure of this?"

"Nobody'd have blamed you," the inspector grunted, a bit ashamed at his lack of trust. "And you were gone so long too…"

"I just needed some more time to think, I never intended to desert you," William said, a bit dismayed at his "friends'" eagerness to think he would so easily flee his life in Toronto.

"No-one is accusing you of such a thing, William," Julia said, and her hand came to rest on his tanned forearm in a calming gesture. She could feel the tense muscles under her fingers and winced inwardly when she realized they had upset him. "First and foremost we were afraid something had happened to you."

"After all, you weren't responding to any of our letters," George added.

"I told you: I didn't get a single letter ever since I arrived here, I swear!"

"Alright, alright, let's just calm down," Brackenreid said soothingly, and it was odd for him to take on the role of the peacemaker. "What does it matter now, anyway? We found you, you're alive and well, and you're coming back to Toronto. Bloody hell, we should be drinking, not barking at each other!"

William calmed down somewhat, but did not apologize as he normally would have done. Julia felt some of the tension leave him, and she didn't realize right away that she was stroking his forearm in soothing patterns in an effort to appease him. When she did, however, she stopped short.

After a short silence, surprisingly, it was Murdoch who spoke up. "What about your wife, sir? And Dr. Garland? How on Earth did they agree on letting you come over to the Yukon for several weeks?"

"Well, about that me old mucker, the missus was planning to go and visit her sister in Montreal with the boys, so I won't be missed much," Brackenreid chuckled. "Sometimes, she needs a break away from me."

"And Darcy doesn't exactly know I am here…"

William did a double take and George almost choked on his drink. "Begging your pardon?"

"Well, he was in Chicago for a conference about blood transfusions, I wasn't about to wait three weeks for him to come back," Julia explained quickly, feeling the three men's eyes on her. "I sent him a letter and I left him a note…"

"Maybe you should have waited and asked for his permission, I doubt he is fine with this situation," Murdoch said, and the chair under him suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Darcy knew about his past relationship with Julia, and if he knew anything about the doctor, it's that he would never allow his beautiful wife to travel to a foreign country to visit her old love. _When he finds out, he's going to be furious… _

"Darcy knows who he married, he'll understand," Julia assured, although in truth her husband's reaction was nothing if not unpredictable. "I don't have to ask for his _permission _for everything, William, he isn't that kind of man."

"I'm sure," the detective muttered. "How very modern of him."

There was a crashing sound upstairs, and it matched the effect William's words had had on Julia. She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Your husband is a very modern and devoted man, characteristics that are hard to find nowadays. Shame that you had to travel so far to find that kind of man."

Sensing this was going in an unpleasant direction, Brackenreid cleared his throat. "Well, as I said, let's drink to your well-being! Bartender, bring us some- darn, right, he went to sleep. George, pour me some water will you?"

"Right away, sir," Crabtree said promptly, glad to have something to distract himself from the daggers shooting out of the doctor's blue eyes. If he were on the receiving end of those, he'd most likely die of fright.

But William didn't seem fazed. Even as a storm brewed up in Julia's eyes, just as some more commotion was heard from upstairs. _Probably some drunkards fighting… _"Is something the matter, doctor?" he asked casually. He knew he shouldn't do this; he had had his chance to propose, but he had missed it, and it should have ended there. But his heart hurt too much.

"Not at all, detective," she answered coolly. "It is true, what you said. Shame, that such a man can't be found around every corner."

"Bloody hell, what's going on upstairs?" Brackenreid asked, more to stop their hidden quarrel rather than out of genuine concern.

"No need to worry, fights are a common occurrence here, but the outcome is rarely fatal," Murdoch grumbled. Petty brawls were of no interest to him.

But the scuffle gained in violence and volume, and when there was a scream the detective couldn't ignore it any longer. There was a familiar touch to that voice, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it… Unless…

"William! Help!"

Jack.


	4. Assault

**Chapter Four: Assault  
**

William felt his blood run cold, and he was running before he even realized he had gotten up. He didn't care if any of the other three were following or calling him, the raw despair in Jack's voice had his heart in a stranglehold.

As he hurried up the stairs, his mind was full of fear for his younger friend's safety. He closed his eyes for maybe half a second, praying silently to God that nothing bad had happened, and soon enough he reached the end of the corridor where he knew Jack's room was.

Throwing caution to the wind, Murdoch tried to open the door but found it was locked from the inside. "Blast! Jack, the door is locked, can you hear me?" His fright increased tenfold when there was no response from inside the room. "Jack? Answer me!"

"He's in there?"

William turned around and nodded to Brackenreid and Julia who were nearing him, George in tow. "He's not talking, and the door is locked. I'm going to force it open, stand back."

"Now, old mucker, wait for a moment, you might-"

But William had already taken a few steps back and charged toward the door with all the strength provided by his nervousness. His shoulder collided with the hard wood and the door opened on impact, leaving him stumbling in the room.

"… hurt yourself. Never mind that," Brackenreid said gruffly, following his detective inside.

Murdoch quickly scanned the room and gasped when he caught sight of Jack spread out on the floor, surrounded by glass shards. "Jack!"

This was awfully familiar; a lifeless body in the middle of a room, a broken window… It reminded him strongly of at least a dozen crime scenes. Only this time, it was his friend face-first on the ground, and not some unknown man.

His heart hammering against his ribcage, William approached and kneeled beside Jack. Slowly, fearfully, he reached down to check his pulse, knowing that he had to do it even if the outcome wasn't what he prayed it would be. To his utter relief, he felt Jack's heart beat under his fingers, and he let out a thankful sigh.

"Is he… ?" Julia began, crouching down on the other side of the young man.

"No, he's got a pulse. Help me turn him over."

Their combined efforts were enough to roll Jack over on his back, and William frowned when he saw the bruises and cuts on the younger man's face. He was quite beaten up, but thank god, he was alive. "Jack? Jack, can you hear me?"

Mercifully, the writer started coughing, and Julia instinctively tilted his head to the side so he would not jostle his cuts. Her eyes were sweeping over his body, searching for further wounds, and it was clear that the marks on his face were not the only extend of his injuries. His arm, for one, was bending at an odd angle and she suspected it to be dislocated.

"William, that you?" Jack asked with a rough voice.

"Yes, Jack, you are safe now," William said gently, although he was burning with wrath inside. "What happened? Did someone break through the window?"

The blue-eyed man nodded weakly. "I was asleep, they threw something, maybe a stone… It broke the window and woke me up." He coughed some more, and drops of blood came flying out of his mouth. "Before I could do anything, they were on me… Beating me up…"

"Who did this to you? Where did they go?"

"William, don't push him," Julia whispered, her hand cupping Jack's cheek.

Murdoch glanced at her and, looking down at his friend once more, realized that he was on the verge of unconsciousness. He nodded. "Did you see their faces?" he asked slowly.

Jack's breath seemed to caught for a moment, but he found enough strength to answer. "Davis, and Logan… They ran away… when I called you…" After these words, the writer's eyes rolled back into his skull, and he passed out.

Brackenreid, who up until this point had been standing in the background, stepped up. "Alright, Murdoch, help me lift him on the bed will ya. Come on, one, two, three!" With their combined strength, the two men managed to lift Jack and deposit him on the bed, taking extra care not to worsen his wounds. "There, all set. You two, see to his injuries. Crabtree, come with me, we're finding those two bastards or my name's not Brackenreid. Come on, bugalug, come on!"

The two police officers exited the room, leaving William and Julia alone with an unconscious Jack. The situation should have been awkward, however, they had more pressing matters to attend to. "I have some medical supplies in my room, I'll go and get them, could you take off his shirt in the meantime?" Julia said, already fishing for the key to her room in her pocket.

"Of course." He watched her walk out of the room and carefully removed Jack's shirt, avoiding his bruises and cuts as much as possible. _I know Davis and Logan are cowards, but to assault a sleeping man… This is low, even for them. _He rolled up Jack's pant legs to assess any eventual additional damage, and while he wasn't entirely pleased, he was relieved to see only bruised knees. _From when he fell to the ground, perhaps. _

Something then caught his attention; tucked into one of Jack's belt loops were two rose petals. When William picked them up their scent immediately filled his nose, and he frowned. How on Earth had those ended up stuck in Jack's pants? Roses were highly uncommon in Dawson, or the entire Yukon for that matter, so it was unlikely his friend had come across them during a stroll in the forest. The detective carefully slipped the petals in his breast pocket, making a mental note to investigate it further in the near future.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Julia enter the room again. "He still hasn't regained his senses, should I go look for smelling salts?" he asked. He was still a bit angry at her, but she was willing to help his friend and she was probably the best medical asset this town had ever hosted, so he swallowed his pride and did his best to sound polite and cooperative.

"Don't bother, it is actually fortunate that he's still unconscious," Julia said as she put a small suitcase down on the bed and came to sit next to Jack's chest.

"I am afraid I don't understand."

"Do you see the way his shoulder seems to sag? I am afraid it was dislocated in the scuffle, and I have to put it back into its proper place as soon as possible." Julia rolled up her sleeves and gave William an apologetic look. "This is going to be more effective than any smelling salt you might find."

Murdoch winced slightly but nodded. "Do you want me to hold him down while you do it?"

"It would be a good thing, thank you William."

Murdoch put one hand on Jack's good shoulder and the other flat against his chest, sincerely hoping that he wouldn't have to completely pin his friend to the bed to save him from damaging himself any further. He felt a warm touch on his arm and raised his eyes to find Julia's comforting hand on his wrist. He nodded. "Whenever you are ready."

"I'll try and make this quick."

She wasn't lying; as soon as her delicate hands got a firm hold of Jack's upper arm, she pulled up sharply. William had seen many things during his stay in the Yukon, most of them quite gruesome, but the resounding _pop _of the bone slipping back into its socket made his toes curl a little in his boots.

The pain of it must have been quite important, too, as Jack's eyes jerked open and a desperate scream fled his mouth. "Get off me! Get off me, you god-forsaken sons of-"

"Jack, everything is alright, it's just me," William said reassuringly, pushing his friend back down on the bed as he tried to sit up. "Calm down, you are safe now."

The blue-eyed man clutched his injured shoulder as his panicked gaze jumped from William to Julia, his chest heaving painfully. Out of genuine concern, the doctor reached out and cupped his bruised cheek, startling him. "Shhh, nobody is going to hurt you, Jack, I promise," she whispered soothingly as she stroked the side of his face with her thumb.

Murdoch almost frowned; there was an odd, fierce sensation in the pit of his stomach. Part of him wondered if he was just finding her attitude improper – after all, she was married now, for crying out loud – or he just wished her improper attitude was directed towards him. The other, larger part, was unacceptably jealous. But when he realized Jack had calmed down, he decided to let it go.

The young writer was still holding onto his bad shoulder, visibly in pain, but he wasn't agitated anymore. "What happened? I was sleeping, and suddenly… I don't know what happened, I remember someone throwing me on the ground, hitting me…"

"Yes, you were able to identify them shortly before you lost consciousness," William informed him, watching as Julia began cleaning Jack's wounds with care. Some of them were going to need stitches. "You saw Davis and Logan, apparently."

"Yes! Both of them, that's true," he said, gritting his teeth as his cuts were dabbed with alcohol. "They came through the window."

Murdoch nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. On Julia's skilled hands running across Jack's chest to wipe off blood, to be precise. He was reminded of a time when, on a few occasions, the very same hands had travelled across his chest. Most of the time, through his shirt; once or twice, under it. His pulse quickened, and he looked away before he got too caught up in his memories.

"William, are you alright?" Julia asked, a concerned frown on her features.

The detective straightened and his eyes met hers. His face felt hot and he prayed to God that he wasn't blushing. "Yes, I was just thinking. I ought to join the inspector and George, my help is not needed here as your hands are more than capable enough." He stood up, grabbing his hat that he had left on the nightstand. "I will stop by later. Doctor, Jack."

After one last nod, he was off, tugging his hat on.

Julia tended to Jack's wounds with care and patience, the only sound in the room being her patient's labored breathing. He was quite docile and obedient, letting her patch him up without so much as a quiet complain. However, when she readied a needle and some thread, he visibly flinched. "Is it really necessary?" he asked nervously.

"That gash on you forearm looks serious, if I don't sew it up it might get infected," she explained calmly. "I'll make this as quick as possible, you have my word."

Jack swallowed hard, but it wasn't as if he had any choice in the matter, so he nodded. She felt him shudder under her touch as she cleaned the wound with water, and attempted to cheer him up a little. "You know, I once stitched William's arm up, after he fell from a roof. I have to say you are a much better patient than he was."

"Is that so?" Jack said with a half-smile.

"You would have thought I was tending to a child, the way he kept hiding his arm behind his back. When I eventually managed to take care of his wound, he was silent, almost sulking." She smiled fondly as she picked up her needle and settled Jack's arm on her legs. "I thought he had finally resigned himself, but then I had to give him a shot of mercury, and he went back to whining."

Jack stared at her; her loving expression was not lost on him. "You care for him a lot, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Her smile disappeared and she looked lost for a second, before her features took on a blank front. "Of course, we have worked together for more than two years, we are friends," she said, hoping it would satisfy him.

"William and I are friends… But with you, there's something more."

"I don't see what you are talking about." She began stitching, with no intention to hurt him but she would rather have his mouth shut. She wasn't sure she was enjoying the direction their conversation was taking, but then again, she could only blame herself for starting it in the first place.

But unfortunately for her, Jack only ground his teeth but kept speaking. "The way you looked at one another – or refused to look at one another, that is… I'm very good at reading people, and it looks like the both of you once shared something that is no more, and you wish it was otherwise." He paused as she pulled the needle through his injury, but refused to cry out. "Am I mistaken?"

"While I admire your deducing skills, Mr. London, I am afraid that this is none of your business," she warned with a polite smile.

He remained silent as she finished stitching and dressing his arm, even as she put her medical supplies away and tugged the cover up to his chest. "You need to rest for a day or two, don't pull any strain on your arm and eat properly. I will stop by regularly to check up on you and change your bandages," she instructed.

He nodded wordlessly and she picked up her bag. When she reached the door, however, he spoke up. "You never answered my question."

"Which question?"

"Do you wish things were different?"

Silence, as her fingers clutched the doorknob.

"Sometimes, I wish they were."


	5. The Woman in Red

**Chapter Five: The Woman in Red**

It was almost six a.m. before Brackenreid, Crabtree and Murdoch decided they weren't going to find either Davis or Logan in the sleep-deprived state they were in. The three men limped back to the inn and bid each other a good night before going to their separate rooms.

William was a bit disappointed that they hadn't come across Julia on the way to their rooms. He was hoping to thank her for tending to Jack's injuries, and apologize as well for the way he had behaved. He just didn't want to go to bed thinking that she was upset about the things he might have said; then again, he had no idea which room was hers, and he wasn't going to start knocking on every door until he found her.

_She's probably sleeping, anyway. I will have a talk with her in the morning. _

With that in mind, Murdoch went to his room at the end of the corridor, and was asleep even before his head collided with his pillow.

* * *

When William woke, a single, wicked ray of sunshine filtering through his blinds burned his retina and made him growl. He rolled over on his bed and grabbed his pocket-watch on the nightstand; his abused eyes read six p.m. _I have never slept for so long… I guess I needed it. _

Slowly, clumsily, the detective crawled to the edge of his bed and sat up. Yawning, he pulled on a relatively clean pair of pants and downed a simple white shirt. He pondered a while over his tattered jacket but finally left it on the bed; he would come and fetch it if he decided to go for a stroll. He tucked his shirt in his pants before clasping his belt buckle, and winced when he caught sight of his face in the mirror next to his bed.

_I really need a shave and a haircut… _

Making a mental note to stop by the barber in the near future, William picked up his key and exited his room.

He walked down the stairs of the silent saloon, and there she was, sitting at a table by herself. The mere sight of her had his heart swelling, and if he had doubts about it before they all vanished at once; he would never stop loving her. He couldn't bring himself to. She was everything to him, stubborn and sharp-tongued yes, but at the same time beautiful, endearing, and perfect.

And now out of reach.

William sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. Whatever turn their relationship was taking, he still owed her an apology. He walked over to her table and gave her a smile when she took notice of his presence. "Good morning, Julia."

"Good morning, William." She smiled warmly at him, which did nothing to quench the flutters in his stomach, and gestured to the dishes on the table. "Would you care to share this copious meal with me? I think our friend Oscar went a little overboard."

Upon seeing the scrambled eggs and toasted bread, William's stomach growled loudly and thus provided a suitable answer which had Julia laughing. Murdoch smiled sheepishly and sat across from her, gladly tucking in.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked politely, doing his best not to wolf down the whole plate of eggs.

"Quite soundly, yes, the journey from Toronto to here was rather exhausting," she confessed, sipping at her tea. "I meant to wake up once or twice to check up on Mr. London, but I wasn't even able to."

"Don't worry over it, he probably slept just as soundly as we did." He busied himself by pouring a cup of tea, buying time for what he knew would be awkward apologies. But he also knew there was no avoiding it, and the sooner it was over, the better. "Julia, I would like to thank you for looking after Jack, this means a lot to me."

She smiled but shrugged. "It was the natural thing to do," she just said.

"And I think I also owe you an apology," he pursued, his throat suddenly very constricted. "I behaved improperly and my words were completely uncalled for. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me, I value you too much to have you angry at me."

Julia blinked a few times, speechless. She couldn't remember a time when William managed to put together such convincing apologies, let alone formulate them without tripping over his own words. In that handful of hours since her arrival in Dawson, she had been jumping from surprise to surprise with him. The Yukon had changed him far beyond what she had expected.

She noticed his puzzled look and realized she was staring at him instead of answering. "William, there is no need to apologize, if anything I shouldn't have reacted the way I did."

"I indirectly spoke ill of your husband," he reminded her.

"Only because I indirectly spoke ill of you," she chided stubbornly.

"This is not going to work out," he chuckled. "Let's say we both share blame for what happened, how about it?"

"Now this is something I can accept, detective."

The pair exchanged a warm smile - short-lived of course, as was proper – and directed their attention back to their cups of tea. The silence, though not entirely comfortable, was at least companionable this time, and William felt no heavy load on his shoulders. Well, none that he wasn't used to.

"When do you want to go back to Toronto?" he asked out of the blue.

"I have not given it much thought, to be honest, we weren't even sure we would find you," she answered, settling her cup down. "Now that I… that we saw for ourselves that you are alright, we might have to go back as soon as possible."

"Oh… that's a shame. I would have been delighted to show you around, there are some viewpoints up north that are really worth the ride."

"Well, I guess a few days won't make any difference now," Julia said with a smile. "I would love to know all about this beautiful country."

"Believe me, you don't want to see the grizzlies. I only came across one during my stay here, and I swear I never knew I could run so fast."

That last comment had them both laughing, and Murdoch noticed Julia's cheeks were turning pink. "Oh, William, are you even able to avoid trouble?"

"I have a different theory, I think that trouble is always out there waiting for me," he joked. "In fact, I am quite sure it is going to pounce on me any minute now."

"Well, that's not a very nice thing to say about me now, Will."

Murdoch and Julia turned their heads sharply in the direction of the new, crystal-clear voice. A young, sumptuous woman was standing in the doorway of the saloon, hands on hips. She had long curly red hair flowing across her shoulders and down her back, and the tight red dress she wore revealed far more of her anatomy than was proper – enough to have Murdoch shifting uncomfortably on his seat, Julia noticed.

When the unknown woman approached, a very strong scent assaulted their noses. It reminded Julia of roses, but it was so intense it was hard to tell. The beautiful creature came to stand next to William, who was on the verge of turning a deep shade of red, and smiled down at him. "Well, I don't even get a greeting?"

"Hello," he said quickly, carefully avoiding either woman's eyes.

"That's better." The newcomer walked behind William's chair and put her hands on his shoulders. The detective visibly tensed up and his jaw went stiff. The sight was very unusual for Julia who was used to his casual and almost emotionless demeanor; then again, never before had she seen him in that kind of predicament. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"I… I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Patricia, this is Dr. Julia Garland, one of my dearest friends. Julia, this is Patricia Wells, a… friend of mine."

The woman, now known as Patricia, let out a pristine laugh that hurt Julia's ears. "Oh, William dear, we are more than just _friends_." Without any kind of warning, the lady sat down on Murdoch's knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling sweetly. "Aren't we?"

And there it was, the dark red coating on William's cheeks. She couldn't explain why, but Julia felt terribly annoyed at the woman's attitude; she hid it as best as she could behind a fake smile. "How lovely, how did you two meet each other?" she asked politely, all the while feeling very cold inside.

Murdoch's eyebrows shot up and he was about to protest, but Patricia beat him to it. "About three months ago, I think, is that right Will? You see, I was new here, I didn't know a single soul. I was approached by a couple of men; I thought they were going to help me. Turns out their intentions were not that selfless, if you catch my drift." Patricia paused to chuckle a bit and leaned her head against William's shoulder. "Anyway, they were becoming agitated and I was beginning to wonder what was going to happen to me. When suddenly my hero came galloping down the street on his black stallion and sent the villains running with their tails between their legs… so to speak!"

Patricia erupted in laughter. However, Julia only gave her a small smile, the coldness inside her quickly becoming a fierce inferno. What had transpired between William and that woman? If you could call the rose-scented, hardly clothed creature that was currently occupying the space over the detective's legs a woman…

"Ever since, I've been trying to make it up to him," the woman in red pursued, playing with William's collar much to his dismay. "But he's such a gentleman you know! He won't accept anything, not even what others would fight to obtain…"

"I believe that is quite enough, Miss Wells," Murdoch said calmly, but it was obvious he was deeply embarrassed.

"_Miss Wells_, seriously William, after all this time?" Patricia chuckled and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Stop by my room sometime, I will make sure you never call me that again."

The detective saw Julia avert her eyes, and he knew he had to put an end to this situation before it got out of hand. "As much as I appreciate the offer, _Miss Wells_, I have to decline. I'm afraid I won't have any spare time in the days to come."

"Suit yourself, sweetheart." Patricia stood up, but not before she deposited a firm kiss on William's burning cheek, startling him out of his skin. Unnecessarily smoothing out her dress, she gave Julia a wide, but clearly far from genuine smile. "Until we meet again then, Dr. Garland."

"Actually, Dr. Garland is my husband, I chose to remain Dr. Ogden to avoid confusion," she answered with faked politeness.

"Oh I see." Inexplicably, Patricia visibly relaxed. "Have a nice day."

Some hip-swaying later, the redhead was out of the saloon. A bit wild-eyed, William looked at Julia, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. "I swear, Julia, nothing ever happened between me and Miss Wells," he stammered, shame dripping from his words. "She is harassing me, believe me she is quite hard to avoid, but I would never… I mean…" His breathing was so labored that he had to pause to get his bearings.

"William, you make your own choices, you owe nobody an explanation," Julia said to calm him down before he started to hyperventilate. "Besides, it would be out of place of me to judge you, we each have our own life to live." She waited until his nervousness subdued somewhat before she spoke up again. "I take it your "friend" is a lady of the night?"

"A prostitute, yes, you are quite correct." Murdoch gulped down the rest of his tea in an effort to regain some kind of composure. "I really don't know why she is so obsessed with me."

"Oh, I could think of a few reasons why." Julia almost slapped herself, but thankfully the detective was still a bit distraught and took no notice of her words.

"And I told her almost a thousand times that Themis is a mare, not a stallion, but she always repeats the same mistake."

_Actually, in comparison, that part didn't bother me at all… _Julia reached for her cup of tea again and brought it to her lips, but she remembered that it was empty when she only gulped down a big mouthful of air. Why the devil was her heart upside-down? She wasn't supposed to care about what William was doing or who he was seeing, those decisions were his to make. Then why did she feel the way that woman Patricia had touched him was forbidden? That her luscious red lips did not deserve to graze those cheeks that Julia herself had caressed and kissed on so many occasions?

The doctor was spared any more thinking when someone sat down next to her and groaned. "Man alive, I don't think my back ever hurt so much," Jack complained, leaning his bandaged arm on the table. "And my knees barely support my weight, had your table been two feet further, I might just have collapsed."

"You'll need a decent amount of time to recover," Julia told him with a smile, pouring him a cup of tea. "You didn't have to come down, I would have brought you something to eat."

"Nonsense, it won't be said Jack London stayed holed up in this room because of some minor bruising." The young writer nodded his thanks to Julia and reached for a piece of toast. "I could eat a horse. Not yours though, William, who knows what I might come down with?"

Murdoch rolled his eyes but emitted an amused chuckle. "Most certainly a concussion. I wouldn't let you eat her."

Their conversation was interrupted by the door of the inn swinging open and closing again, a little too noisily to be normal. Even Oscar, who was wiping the counter clean, raised his head.

There stood Superintendent Sam Steele, in charge of Dawson City, and two other constables were behind him. William frowned when he caught sight of the shotguns the two men were carrying, but he decided to act casual. "Greetings, Superintendent. How may I help you?"

"You may start by stepping aside, Murdoch, this is none of your business."

William frowned. "I fail to understand."

"Then I'll be as brief as possible." Steele stepped forward, and his gaze shifted from the detective to Jack. "Mr. London, you are under arrest for the murder of Davis Kingsley and Logan Craig."


	6. Old Times

**Chapter Six: Old Times**

"I beg your pardon?"

Superintendent Steele gave Jack a dark glare. "You heard me quite well, Mr. London. Hands up where I can see them, and off we go, there's a nice cell waiting for you next to my office."

"What evidence do you have? Mr. London was in no way able to leave his room for the past hours, let alone kill two men," William protested, getting to his feet to stand between Steele and his friend. "There is a doctor here who can corroborate this."

"Well then, if he was unable to leave his room, then why did I and one of my men see him walk out of town in the morning only to come back two hours ago?" Without waiting for any kind of answer to his rhetorical question, Steele pushed past William and grabbed Jack's arm. "Come on, Mr. London, don't make this any harder."

"I did not kill those men!" Jack growled as the Mountie pulled at his injured arm. "Now please, this is a big misunderstanding, I am sure we can discuss this."

"Oh, we'll discuss alright, once you're behind bars." Steele pulled out handcuffs, but when he saw Jack's bandaged arm and took a good look at his bruised face, his features softened somewhat and he grunted. "Don't waste my time," he just said.

Jack was about to protest some more, but his shoulders sagged and he sighed. He was too tired for this. "If I follow you of my own free will, will you listen to what I have to say?"

"This goes without saying."

"Alright then."

Jack stood up and when he teetered, William rushed to his help. "I am coming with you to Fort Herchmer, I can account for your whereabouts at the time of crime," he told his friend, helping him up.

"Most appreciated, William. Most appreciated."

* * *

It was rare but not completely unheard-of, seeing Jack London in one of the two cells of Fort Herchmer. The oddity came from William not sharing aforementioned cell along with his friend, and watching him through bars.

The detective and Julia had come along to Fort Herchmer to vouch for Jack's innocence, and as they waited patiently by the cells for the Superintendent to come back from his office, Murdoch was getting anxious. He knew that Jack couldn't have been able to leave his room to kill two men, but he hadn't stayed with the man physically to make sure of it. Sam Steele was a no-nonsense, by-the-book kind of policeman – he often reminded Murdoch of Brackenreid, minus the pronounced taste for alcohol, of course – and he wouldn't settle for anything less than rock-solid facts.

He began pacing, hands behind his back, his mind racing for a way to convince Steele than Jack was innocent. Julia's hand on his shoulder stopped him; he turned to see her reassuring smile and was going to tell her that he wasn't worried, when the door to the cell block opened. "Ah, Mr. London, I am sorry I kept you waiting," Steele said, though not looking the least bit sorry at all. "Urgent matters. But I am all yours now."

The policeman took a seat next to Jack's cell and William sat down as well next to Julia on a wooden bench. This was in no way the fancy interview room back in Toronto, but it would have to do. _This should not take much time anyway_.

"Why did you kill these two men?" Steele asked bluntly, making William and Julia frown.

"As I told you at the inn, I didn't harm Davis or Logan," Jack said calmly, staring at the officer. "The last time I saw them, they were smashing their fists against my face. Hence my current state."

Steele was taking writing in a small notebook at the speed of light, and Murdoch craned his neck to catch a glimpse, to no avail unfortunately. "Can someone confirm that Mr. Kingsley and Mr. Craig beat you up?"

"I can," Julia nodded, speaking for the first time since their arrival at Fort Herchmer. "I can also assure you that Mr. London was in no condition to leave his room, and he most certainly is not the killer you are looking for."

"I hear you, ma'am, but the facts seem to tell another story. As I said earlier, I saw Mr. London with my own two eyes, walking out of town with a large bag slung over his shoulder. It was way too early for anyone to wander the streets, so he was probably all alone in the forest. He came a little while later, and in the next hour, we find Logan and Davis both dead in the forest, by the river."

"Your point being?" Murdoch asked, rather appalled at the Superintendent's eagerness to incriminate Jack.

"Mr. Murdoch, the bag your friend was carrying was large enough to conceal a shotgun," Steeled said slowly, as if he wanted Murdoch to understand each word perfectly. Or to despise him. "And our victims appear to have been shot to death. Now, if Mr. London here was beaten up by these two men: he sets them up, goes to meet them in the forest, kills them and thus accomplishes his revenge."

"Your eyes might have deceived you," the detective suggested, only to be scoffed at.

"I recognized him, I am quite sure of this."

"Stop talking about me as if I wasn't here," Jack snapped, rising from his seat. He was glaring at Steele, and William couldn't remember the last time he had seen him so worked up. "I have nothing to do with this; I didn't kill these men, I didn't even bring my shotgun with me!"

Deep, uncomfortable silence settled over them all, only broken by some snoring coming from the cell next to Jack's. Realizing his mistake, the young writer's blue eyes dropped to the ground and he pursed his lips bitterly. He couldn't bear to look at William's bewildered features, and sat back down without a single word.

Murdoch was the first to find his words once more. "Jack, are you saying you did go to the forest although you were injured?"

Jack sighed and ran an unsure hand through his short brown hair. "I can't deny it." When his gaze met William's, it was filled with sadness, as if he knew he was in some way betraying his friend's trust, but there was no shame in the baby blue eyes. "But I was alone, I never saw Logan or Davis. And I had no weapon with me, you have my word."

"Do you realize how serious this is?" William sighed when Jack looked away. "And what could possibly have you out in the woods considering you could hardly get out of bed?"

His question was met by silence at first, and then Jack shook his head. "You wouldn't understand. This is not something anyone would understand." He adverted his eyes once more, studying the square stones on the ground.

Murdoch's blood began to boil; his friend's neck was at stake and the fool didn't even seem to acknowledge it! "For God's sake, London, your life is on the line! You can't just keep to yourself and expect to be set free."

But Jack stayed impossibly mute; his attitude was very unsettling, and William was about to try and talk some sense into him once more when the door connecting Steele's office to the cell block opened and a head appeared. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I wanted to let you now that we are going to retrieve the bodies with the men," the officer that was standing in the doorway said, nodding his head respectfully to Murdoch and Julia.

"Alright Harris, just be careful, grizzlies were spotted not far from here yesterday."

William and Julia exchanged a glance; it was as if they could read right into the other's mind. "Sir, if I may, I would like to accompany your men to the crime scene to investigate," the detective requested politely, standing up. "And Doctor Ogden here could take a look at the bodies to establish cause and time of death."

"Whatever floats your boat, Murdoch," Steele sighed, aware that it didn't really matter what he answered. "Just don't get in my way."

"As long as _you _don't get in the way of justice." William waited for Julia to stand and walk to the door before he gave Jack one last glance; but the younger man was still not looking at him. Wordlessly, the detective put his hat on and opened the door for Julia, all the while wondering what was so important about Jack's trip into the forest that he had to keep it a secret.

* * *

"Bloody hell, that is some nasty sight."

"That it is, sir, but then again, crime is not a really pretty thing to begin with," Crabtree nodded, his head coming back into the carriage as the coachman pulled his horse to a stop near the river.

After they left Fort Herchmer, William and Julia had run into Brackenreid and George in front of the Midnight Sun Inn. They had to tell them the whole story and of course, the two policemen had wanted to tag along to the crime scene, hopping into a carriage with Julia as William went to fetch his horse. They had followed Steele's men right into the forest, and Julia couldn't help but glance every now and then through the carriage's window to make sure Themis was still trotting nearby, skilled detective secured on her back. She knew it was foolish, but having him out of her sight, even for a few minutes, was unsettling.

Julia gladly accepted Brackenreid's helping hand to get out of the carriage and adjusted her hat, throwing discreet glances all around in search of William. She eventually spotted him dismounting and patting Themis' neck, not far from the scene that Brackenreid had been making comments about.

The two lifeless bodies were lying face-first on the ground, limbs haphazardly thrown around. As she got closer, swiftly followed by Murdoch, Julia recognized the two men that she had met in the saloon the day before. The one she identified as Logan had his face hidden in the grass, by the riverside, whereas his sidekick had a good portion of his upper body underwater.

William silently crossed himself and crouched next to Logan's body. "Are things exactly as you found them?" he asked one of the officers that were standing here, ready to retrieve the bodies.

"Yes, sir, we didn't touch anything."

The detective nodded and made a mental drawing of the position they found the dead men in to remember it later. "George, will you please help me turn Mr. Craig around?" The constable trotted over, leaving Brackenreid's side, and joined forces with Murdoch to push the larger man on his back. "Thank you George, now please could you search the area for bullets or cartridges?"

"Right away, sir."

The stunned expression of Logan's face came as a surprise, but William brushed it aside and racked his chocolate eyes all over the body, barely aware of Julia's presence at his side. The man had a medium-size bloodstain on his shirt on his upper chest, and when William pulled the collar aside, he was not surprised to uncover a bullet wound at the base of the man's neck.

"The bullet must have gone right through the trachea and the carotid, he was dead well before he realized what was happening," Julia said, cutting into his thoughts. "The bloodstain, though…"

"Is something the matter?" William asked her when she frowned.

"Well, if the bullet did sever the carotid artery, there should be far more blood on his shirt… And yet there is only this single, undersized stain…"

"Strange indeed…" Murdoch brought the collar back over the wound, and something caught his attention. As he pulled one lapel of Logan's vest away, he uncovered another red stain, located on the man's breast pocket. William fished inside the pocket and retrieved three rose petals – not unlike the ones he had found in Jack's room after his aggression. "Interesting…" They were wrinkled, faded, as if their force and color had been transferred into the fabric of Logan's white shirt. But how…

"Be careful, sir, this fellow is quite heavy!"

"Oh, can it, Crabtree, I can take care of myself!"

William and Julia turned around to witness something that they would try to remember. The Inspector, boots taken off and pants rolled up to his knees, was trudging in the shallow waters to try and retrieve Davis' body. Unfortunately the ground under his bare feet was quite unpredictable, alternative between slippery pebbles and sticky mud, and every step he took was a risk in itself.

"Sir, maybe we should drag him from the shore," George suggested anxiously, watching his superior as a mother hen would watch over its precious eggs. "I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself."

"Crabtree, have you been spying on my wife lately? Because you bloody sound just like her, boy!" Brackenreid snorted and bent down to grab Davis' shoulders underwater. "If we drag him from the shore as you suggest, we might destroy some evidence on his body, and Murdoch wouldn't let me hear the end of it."

For good measure, the redhead pulled upward to dislodge Davis from his water prison, and grinned when the sodden body actually was lifted above the surface of the river. The slippery stones that were conveniently waiting for his next step, however, wiped any grin he might have off his face as he toppled backward in the water and landed on his bottom with a splash.

His clueless face and tousled hair were too much for Julia, and she hid behind a chuckling William to control her laughter. Even George, who was usually very respectful of the Inspector, had trouble keeping a straight face; Brackenreid crossing his arm and sulking like a toddler, up to his chest in water, was not helping matters.

Once the second body was pulled out of the river and deposited next to Logan's, the first thing that caught Murdoch's attention was the bloodstain in the middle of the man's chest – very similar to that of Logan's. Except that there was a second round-shaped wound in his back.

"The bullet went through the chest, missed the spinal cord and exited the body here," Julia mused out loud, inspecting the bullet hole. "The weapon must have been very powerful."

"Or the shot was fired from a short distance," William nodded. "There was only one bullet hole on Logan's body, which means the bullet is inside him. Could you try and retrieve it please Doctor?"

His short inquiry brought back a wave of memories from the old times, when they used to work together, and Julia's heart swelled. "Well, once the bodies are brought back to town, I'm sure I can manage something," she said with a smile.

"Wonderful." Just in case, William checked Davis' pockets and found only sodden tobacco and matches. No rose petals. "Well, I guess we'll be heading back then. George, have you found any cartridge? Bullets, maybe?"

"I'm afraid not, sir, no cartridge, no bullet, not even footsteps. Maybe the killer cleaned up after himself."

"Indeed. Well, the bullet in Mr. Craig's body should be sufficient." Murdoch stood up and held out his hand to Julia to help her do the same. Her small hand rested in his calloused palm a little longer than was necessary, making the gesture more intimate than intended. His face suddenly felt very hot and he prayed he wasn't blushing. "I shall see you at Fort Herchmer then, Doctor, I am sure we can find a free room to perform an autopsy, or something close to it."

"I'll make do, William, do not worry over it." She watched as Steele's men picked up the bodies and loaded them on a cart with much more care than her assistants, back when she worked at Toronto's city morgue. "Do you think that Mr. London… well, I mean, do you reckon he could have something to do with this?"

William sighed and ran a hand over his overgrown hair. "I sincerely have no idea. I only know that it is not like him to act so rashly." The detective seemed lost in thoughts for a moment, but soon his gaze met Julia's once more. "I'm going back to the hotel to retrieve Jack's shotgun, could you please escort the bodies back to Fort Herchmer with the Inspector and George? I won't be long."

"Of course, William, we will wait for you there."

As Julia watched him walk to his horse and hop in the saddle, she genuinely hoped that Jack was innocent. His friendship seemed to mean a lot to William, and she didn't know how the detective would react if that relationship was blown to pieces by a murder.

She almost jumped when George sighed right next to her; she hadn't noticed his presence. "Even miles away from home, a few days' rest is just too much to ask, I guess," he said.

"Don't be so pessimistic, constable Crabtree, at least the landscape here is nicer than in Toronto," Julia chuckled, trying to cheer him up. "Now come on, let's get the Inspector out of the river before he catches his death."


	7. The Missing Bullet

**Chapter Seven: The Missing Bullet**

After Murdoch retrieved Jack's shotgun from his room – the weapon was propped up against the wall, as if patiently waiting for the detective to pick it up – he walked out of the saloon only to grit his teeth when a familiar voice called his name.

"William! Oh, William!"

_Oh for the love of everything… _Gathering his willpower, he gave his better impression of a polite smile and turned around. "Miss Wells, how nice to see you," he greeted the woman as she neared him. "I trust you are well?"

"I am quite fine, but what about you? I heard the story, and it was quite a shock! Who could have thought Mr. London capable of murder?" Patricia was fanning herself, as if in great distress, but William had the feeling that the events were of no real interest to her. "How are you faring?"

"Well, while I can't say I am happy with the turn of events, I am not entirely convinced that Mr. London is guilty," he told her, wondering how she had learned about the murder. "I think someone is trying to frame him."

Her blue eyes gave him a puzzled look, but she quickly shook it off and smiled. "Oh, I see. Well, if that is the case, I'm sure you will find the real killer, just like you did for Mrs. Bryant. And if the pressure is too much to take…"

At this point she stepped closer, invading his personal bubble until he could no longer avoid looking at her. He swallowed hard when she put a hand on his shoulder, which made her chuckle.

"… my door is always open if you feel the need to talk."

"Your offer is very appreciated, as always, Miss Wells. I shall be sure to remember it. Now, if you don't mind, they are waiting for me at Fort Herchmer." He touched his fingers to the edge of his hat and nodded at her. "Have a nice day."

"Nice day to you too, love."

With a relieved sigh, Murdoch turned away and began to walk toward Fort Herchmer. She was getting bolder with each passing day, he wouldn't be surprised if she ended up breaking into his room to force herself upon him.

_Right, I wouldn't be surprised, I would be flabbergasted. And terrified. _The mere thought of it made him shudder, and he promised himself that once he had solved the death of Logan and Davis, he would go back to Toronto along with Julia, Brackenreid and George. If only to escape from that dreadful, rose-scented woman.

He found Brackenreid and George outside of Fort Herchmer, chatting with Sam Steele. George was the first to notice his presence and turned to him. "Sir, the bodies are inside, and Doctor Ogden is in the middle of their autopsy. We cleaned an empty room and she set to work as soon as the bodies were put on the table."

"Even shooed us out of the room because we were "crowding" her," Brackenreid grumbled. He still hadn't changed and while his hair wasn't wet anymore, his clothes had yet to dry.

"Very well, I'll take it from here," Murdoch said, nodding and balancing Jack's shotgun on his shoulder. "Inspector, maybe you should go to your room and change into dry clothes, when the sun lowers the temperature has the tendency to drop considerably. George, could you please interrogate people around town, see if they remember something unusual?"

The young constable nodded. "Of course, sir, I'm on it."

"You know, we are far from your jurisdiction here Murdoch," Steeled commented as he watched George walk away. "Just because one of your acquaintances is involved in a murder case doesn't make it yours to handle."

"With all due respect, Superintendent, while I will never doubt your men's ability to scare off wolves when they turn up unannounced in town, I am afraid they are quite unhelpful when it comes to solving a murder case."

Without another word, William slipped inside the Fort, leaving the two men standing there.

"Well, that was quite unexpected," Brackenreid chuckled. "Fancy a drink to help swallow it down?"

* * *

"Well, this is a far stretch from the morgue in Toronto, don't you think?"

Julia laughed softly, but her eyes never swayed from her work. "It will do just fine. Superintendent Steele was kind enough to let me borrow a few surgical instruments that once belonged to a doctor, before he was killed by a bear, the poor soul."

"Ah yes, I heard about this unfortunate accident." William deposited the shotgun on a small desk. He would examine it later but he wanted to take a look at Julia's findings first. "Have you found anything?"

"According to _rigor mortis_, both men were killed around the same time, roughly six to twelve hours ago," the doctor said, still focused on Logan's neck that she had cut open in an effort to recover the bullet that had killed him. "They suffered no other injury that the shot that put an end to their lives. No sign of struggle, no tell-tale contusions, nothing indicates that they fought back."

"They were caught off guard then," Murdoch thought out loud, coming to stand right next to Julia. It was just like old times, the two of them working together on a case, and William was surprised at how natural it felt. It was as if all those months spent away from one another had never even existed, and he would give anything for this warm feeling in his chest to last longer than the time it would take for them to solve the case.

"Indeed, although there is something intriguing." Julia mumbled something under her breath that William suspected was a curse when her tool scraped against Logan's vertebra with a screeching sound. "Look at their right shoulders."

As asked, Murdoch walked around the large table to observe both men's right sides, and he frowned. A dark, angry bruise was spread across the two shoulders, almost identical in width and color. "They have the same hematoma," he mused.

"I highly doubt that this could be a coincidence. And even stranger than that, the incomplete clotting of the bruise indicates that when both victims sustained a hit in the shoulder, their blood pressure was very low, maybe even nonexistent."

"They were hit after they died, or right when they were killed," Murdoch concluded, following her trail of thought. "Did you determine the force of the blow they received?"

"I will have to check the bone's condition, but I can already tell that… Ah ha!" Swiftly, Julia lifted her pair of tweezers, proudly displaying a bloody bullet. "Here you are, you little scoundrel."

William walked back to her side and smiled. "You've remained as dexterous as ever, it seems, Julia," he commented, his smile widening instinctively when he caught sight of her light blush. Feeling bold suddenly, he closed his hand over hers around the pair of tweezers, making a show of examining the bullet under all angles – but really, he just wanted an excuse to touch her without it being improper. "We will have to clean it, but it looks like a shotgun bullet…"

"It is quite large indeed," Julia agreed, nervously smoothing out her hair with the hand that her detective friend wasn't trapping with his own.

"I'm going to fetch a bowl of water from the tap just outside the Fort, see if you can find anything else in the meantime," William told her, finally releasing her hand, taking extra care to let his fingers glide over hers. He had almost forgotten how soft her skin was, almost. But not quite.

She only nodded. Murdoch grabbed an empty basin from the desk and made his way out, a thrilled grin plastered on his face. Sure, he was risking rejection, and she was still impossibly out of reach, but for now his heart was content to just make her smile and brush her skin from time to time. He didn't know what the future would bring, but the present was good enough and if he had to settle for this and nothing else, well, it was still better than not getting to see her at all.

Even though his whole body shuddered pleasantly at the thought of taking things further than mere grazing of skins.

When he went back from filling his bowl with fresh water, however, the sight that greeted him when he reentered the makeshift morgue wiped the smile off his face.

There was a man standing next to Julia over the bodies; his back was facing William but he managed to recognize him and his shaggy blond hair. After all, you don't usually forget a man you threw in a cell less than three days before. The very same person that was snoring in aforementioned cell when Jack had been arrested.

"So, what's a fine miss such as you doin' all by herself, out there in this brave new world?" the man asked a very edgy Julia.

"I am working, good sir, something I think you should be doing as well," she answered coldly, her attention focused on Logan's corpse and not on the stranger's putrid breath.

He seemed surprised, but also very interested. "A pretty lady such as you? Working? Got no husband to look after you?"

"He's standing right here."

Both the man and Julia turned around, startled by his rough voice. Upon seeing him, the female doctor's eyes took on a mixture of relief and puzzlement, whereas the dirty man's expression turned sour. "Oh, it's you… So, your wife then?"

"Yes, and I would appreciate it if you stopped harassing her," William said gruffly, walking over to them to deposit his bowl of water next to the bodies. He gave the man a piercing glare, coming to stand between him and Julia. "What are you doing out of your cell anyway?"

The stranger scoffed. "I'll have you know that Steele let me go free."

"Oh, is that so?" Murdoch asked, rising one eyebrow.

"Yeah, "lack of evidence" he said, or something close, I don't know." He shrugged, awkwardly reminding William of his father during one of his bad days. "Anyway, I'm free to go wherever I want now."

"Anywhere but here." Without much ceremony, and thoroughly miffed at the man's jeering grin, he grabbed the stranger's sleeve and all but dragged him to the main door. Before he threw him out, he brought the other man close to his face and his furious eyes. "Listen, for I'll only say it once. I see you touch her, talk to her, hell, you even glance in her general direction, I'll hunt you and I'll kill you. I mean it."

"Alright, alright, you don't have to get angry, man."

"We shall see about that."

And with those parting words, William shoved him out of Fort Herchmer and walked back to Julia. Understandably, she looked stunned and he answered her question before she even asked it. "His name is Walter, Archie Walter I think. I brought him to Fort Herchmer three days ago, after he almost forced himself on a young woman. Apparently Superintendent Steele saw fit to let him go free."

"Oh, I see." Julia nodded, eyes downcast. William felt that something else was on her mind, and he wasn't mistaken for she soon spoke up. "Why did you say you were my husband?"

"That was just to deter him, he won't be as inclined to approach you as he would be if he knew that your husband is far away," he said quickly, waving it off as if it meant nothing. But very aware that he would give anything to be able to fulfill the role in real life. "He should leave you alone, considering that I was the one who put him behind bars."

The answer seemed to satisfy her and she set to work again, cleaning the bullet with the fresh water. Relieved, William picked up Jack's shotgun that was still on the desk and proceeded to try to dislodge a small black box from under the barrel, stirring up Julia's attention almost immediately. He gladly explained. "This is a new model of shotgun, I bought the same one a few weeks ago along with Jack. This little case allows you to store a few bullets, so that you can fire multiple times without reloading, just like a common gun. The only downside is, you have to use specific bullets."

"Well, this time it's going to be very helpful," Julia said, drying off the bullet. "If the shot that killed Mr. Craig is "ordinary" and couldn't have been fired with Mr. London's shotgun, then this may constitute evidence that he is innocent."

"Indeed. If only I could take the bullet case off, that is." No matter how hard he pulled, he just couldn't get the blasted thing to come loose. _They are not lying when they say that it can't be taken off easily_, he thought to himself, still twisting the small piece of black metal left and right. _This is beyond safety…_

It took them a half hour and a couple of scratches to figure out how to dislodge the precious bullet case. Wiping sweat off his forehead, Murdoch emptied its content in his palm; five bullets came tumbling into his waiting hand. "Now, let's see," he thought out loud, picking up one at random, anxiously mapping out the small object in his mind and coming to a conclusion even before he compared it with the bullet found in Logan's spine.

They matched. Jack's shotgun was the murder weapon.

William rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh; things were going from bad to worse, thanks to his efforts, but he still couldn't believe Jack was a murderer. He had to think, and think hard. "The shot was indeed fired with this shotgun. However, the identity of the shooter remains unknown, and I imagine you didn't bring a fingerprint kit with you?"

Julia shook her head, looking at him with a sad expression on her features. "No, William. Maybe you shouldn't completely ignore the possibility that Mr. London… I mean, do you really know him that well?"

"There is another thing that I can't explain," Murdoch pursued. If he had heard Julia's question, he didn't feel the need to answer it. "These cases have a six bullet-capacity, meaning that only one bullet was fired. And yet, we have two victims who were killed at approximately the same time."

"Maybe the murderer fired once, killing Mr. Craig or Mr. Kingsley, when he ran out of ammunition. He had to load new bullets to kill the second man."

"Interesting theory, but remember the amount of time we spent trying to take the bullet case off? I am not convinced that the remaining man would have kindly waited for his killer to reload and shoot him. Moreover, these cases' mechanism make reloading impossible: when a clip is empty you have to throw it away and buy a new one."

"It sounds like a real waste of skill and metal to me," Julia said, inspecting the empty clip. "There must be some way to make them usable again."

William almost told her that making bullet cases reusable would in no way help Jack, but he refrained from it and simply nodded. "I am going to interrogate Jack, I need to know why he went into the forest. If he refuses to talk, then there is nothing we can do for him."

His dear doctor gave him another sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder in support. "If he is innocent, I am sure you are going to prove it. You always do," she told him gently. "Have faith, just like I have faith in you."

He smiled at her, appreciating the warmth of her words and her soothing touch. "I shall prove myself worthy of your trust, then."

* * *

"I've told you before," Jack mumbled from the corner of the cell he was sitting in. "You wouldn't understand."

"It doesn't matter if I understand or not, I just need to know why you were there at the time Logan and Davis both got killed," William said, getting impatient. "You can swear that you didn't murder them all you want, but if you refuse to provide me with an alibi, then it makes no sense!"

The younger man gave him a sad, disappointed glance. "You don't believe me, do you? You really think I killed them…"

Murdoch sighed heavily and sat down on the bench, racking a tired hand through his tousled hair. "Of course not, Jack," he said in a softer tone to appease his friend. "I don't believe for one single second that you could have killed them. But your word is not enough, I need you to understand that."

Jack sighed as well and remained silent for a few seconds. William dared to hope his friend was weighing out his words, and he let him take as much time as needed to formulate his answer. He knew his patience was worth it when Jack spoke up. "I was visiting a friend."

"A friend? You never told me about a friend of yours living in the forest…" Murdoch said suspiciously. He had a feeling that Jack was making things up, and decided to press the issue a little further. "Who is it?"

"That, I can't tell, for her sake," the writer said sharply. "But now you know that I went into the forest to see her. I had no shotgun. I swear, I didn't kill Logan or Davis, I didn't even see them again after they beat me up." His powerful blue eyes were staring at Murdoch as if they could see right through his soul. "Now William, you can either believe me and try to find the real killer, or chat here with me until it's time for me to be executed."


End file.
